


Yellow is the Brightest Color

by misscanteloupe



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, and fluff, happy ending I promise, mostly angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 15:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10493613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misscanteloupe/pseuds/misscanteloupe
Summary: Regina brushes the imaginary lint off her dress. “I had things to do. Things that don’t involve listening to your mother blather on about weddings.”“Well, that’s why we’re here actually. To plan it.”Just like that, the block of cement comes back and Regina’s smile freezes in place.Emma is getting married. Regina is having some trouble coping.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is... sort of canon-compliant? I had the beginning written before everyone's reactions on the show were revealed. Plus Snow and David aren't cursed. Let's just pretend most of 6B didn't happen.
> 
> Hook is in a few scenes. Yeah I know, I wasn't happy about it either. Robin is briefly mentioned. I haven't had time to edit yet so please excuse any errors.

The ring is the first thing she notices.

Granted, it’s hard _not_ to notice. Considering Emma had gathered them all here to make an announcement; _here,_ as in the house Regina has grown to despise.

And frankly Regina notices _a lot_ of things about Emma Swan. Like how pale and sunken her face has become over the span of just several weeks. How the light seems to have completely vanished from her eyes - which were once bold and bright - now dull and almost… lifeless.

But this?

This takes the cake.

Because the ring is about as simple as that godforsaken pirate and Regina can’t stand the sight of it.

“Can we have everyone’s attention please?” Emma calls as a hush settles across the room.

Regina can’t bring herself to hate the fact that she’s standing here again, in Emma’s living room about to share a toast, when her eyes are still drawn to the ring around Emma’s finger and Regina’s stomach feels sick.

“Killian and I have an announcement to make,” Emma continues with a nervous type of excitement.

Judging by Snow’s quiet little gasp, it isn’t so much of a secret anymore.

“Emma, are you -”

“Snow,” David says warningly.

Henry peers back and forth between the two of them in confusion. “What is it?”

“ _Nothing_. Let her speak,” Snow practically squeaks.

But it’s the pirate who steps forward instead. He motions to Emma with a single nod, as if _he_ should be the one to break the news first. And it’s that single gesture that has the fury in Regina’s chest tipping past boiling point; has her digging her fingernails into her palms and wondering if she will always have remnants of the Evil Queen hidden away inside of her.

She wants to wrap her fingers around his throat and crush it.

“Well, simply put. I asked Emma to marry me,” Hook says. “And… she said yes.”

There’s a tense silence that lingers in the air after that. In the span of several seconds, Regina thinks it might be in her head, because time seems to slow and something in her chest just _breaks_.

“So… you guys are getting married?” Henry asks, a strange edge in his voice.

“Yeah, kid,” Emma says and scuffs her feet. “I’m getting married.”

“Wow. That’s… that’s great, Mom. Congrats.”

“That’s wonderful, honey,” Snow says, before rushing in for a hug.

It’s not the same bubbly excitement Regina would expect from Snow White. None of this is, even as Charming pats a congratulatory hand over the pirate’s shoulder and Henry eventually joins in on the praise. It’s all wrong.

“So when’s the wedding?” David asks.

“About a month from now.”

“So soon?” Snow says, and no one can mistake the disapproval in her tone. “Emma, that’s -”

“We wanted to start as soon as possible,” Emma defends and shrugs. “Begin our life together.”

Regina makes a sound in the back of her throat. She doesn’t mean to - she would’ve happily remained unnoticed in the background and slipped away at the given opportunity. But her knuckles are still white from fisting her hands for so long and she feels that pounding in her ribcage, like her heart is about to burst right out of it.

So when Emma meets her gaze, it takes every last bit of Regina’s control not to unravel right there.

“Regina?” Emma urges, and her voice sounds _so_ small. Regina is only vaguely aware of how badly she wants to shake her by the shoulders and demand for the old Emma to come back.

Not whoever _this_ is.

“Are you okay? You haven’t said anything.”

“Then I think congratulations are in order,” Regina manages to say. She ignores the curious gazes around her and stands up. “I’m sure you’ll both have a… wonderful life together. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“Wait. Regina.”

It’s the desperate shift in Emma’s voice that gives Regina pause just outside the entryway. She swallows.

“I’m happy for you, Emma. Really,” Regina tells her, quickly plastering a smile on her face. “I am.”

Emma continues to stare at her oddly. Regina takes her leave then, unable to stay a second longer and wait for everything to unfold - everything she’s worked so hard to bury.

“What’s wrong with Mom?”

“No idea, kid.”

It’s the last thing Regina hears.

She sits in her car for a long while, hands clenched tightly around the steering wheel, as she tries to control the block of cement imbedded somewhere deep in her ribcage. At the rippling sob that’s threatening to uncurl in her chest.

And Regina wonders if this is how it’s always going to be; as the villain of her own story, forever destined for unhappy endings and hopeless beginnings.

.

.

.

And then she wonders at one point in time did she manage to fall in love with Emma Swan.

.

.

.

Regina is no stranger to heartbreak.

She’s lived through Daniel’s death after all. Then there were the various occasions a happy ending with Robin was within her grasp, only to end before it could ever start.

But it’s like staring into a ticking time bomb, the way the ring continues to taunt her when Emma shows up the next morning with her mother.

Regina doesn’t expect the arrival. She doesn’t want to have to deal with it either now that her heart is slowly being torn to shreds and she might just be a little hungover after drinking her sorrows away the previous night.

But she opens the door a little wider and puts on her best guise.

“I’d like at least twenty-four hours of my life Charming-free. You’ve given me twelve,” Regina drawls.

But Snow simply beams and holds up a bag of take-out. “We brought Granny’s.”

Regina clicks her tongue, but sighs, letting them through. While Snow barges right in as though she lives there, Emma is a little more tentative. She pauses by the door as Regina closes it, while Regina tries to pretend her presence isn’t making her stomach brim with nerves.

“It was my mom’s idea,” Emma explains with a half grin. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind that Snow White is in my house? Never.”

Emma snorts out a laugh. A genuine one. Regina has to stop for a second, because that’s probably the happiest Emma’s been in a long time and it’s twisting Regina’s insides.

“You left kind of abruptly last night,” Emma notes.

Regina brushes the imaginary lint off her dress. “I had things to do. Things that don’t involve listening to your mother blather on about weddings.”

“Well, that’s why we’re here actually. To plan it.”

Just like that, the block of cement comes back and Regina’s smile freezes in place.

“Right this way.”

If Regina thought it would be agony listening to Snow blather on about weddings, this is pure and unadulterated torture. Never mind the hideous color schemes and wedding brochures scattered across her coffee table. It’s the look of discomfort on Emma’s face the whole way through that does it for her.

It’s the image of Emma in a wedding dress that makes the dread in the pit of Regina’s gut coil.

“Mom, that’s… I’m not filling the aisles with _pink flowers_ ,” Emma exclaims.

Snow has the audacity to look insulted. “You haven’t even seen them -”

“I don’t need to! Pink ribbons? _Birds_? This isn’t the Enchanted Forest.”

“Well what about this dress?”

“ _Mom_.”

Regina wants to strangle them both. Even then she can’t muster the energy to do anything but sit and watch and maybe hope this will all be over soon.

“What do you think, Regina?” Snow asks, pinning her with an expectant look. And, scratch that. Regina _does_ want to strangle her.

“Don’t drag her into this,” Emma insists.

“Why not? Have you even asked her yet?”

“Ask me what?” Regina bites out. She feels a headache forming, and just - none of this should be happening. She feels so _tired_ and she hasn’t even had the chance to ache for a full day yet.

Emma falters for the longest moment, sparing a glance at Snow before latching onto Regina’s gaze. Regina is about to give up and _snap_ when -

“Will you be my maid of honor?” Emma asks.

It’s not what Regina is expecting. The question seems to fly over her head at first, but then Regina’s ears are buzzing and the words aren’t flying over her head so much anymore. Her blood runs cold.

“I know it’s a lot to ask from you,” Emma hastily explains. “But… you’re my best friend, Regina.”

“Is that what you want?” Regina asks after a thick second. She tries not to wince at the word _friend_.

Tries not to think about why her heart is racing or why her lungs feel like they’re about to collapse.

“Will that make you… happy?” Regina says slowly.

Emma is staring at her oddly again, but there’s something different about her expression that stops Regina short. As if the word _happy_ brings on a whole new meaning to all of this. Regina can _see_ the exact moment Emma’s eyes turn from conflicted to longing.

“Yeah,” Emma answers finally. Her eyes are flat again. “Yeah. I want that.”

There’s a sharp beep from the kitchen that luckily severs the silence. Emma stands up.

“Food’s probably done heating up. I’ll get it,” she says and rushes out.

Regina doesn’t realize Snow is watching her until it’s too late. She presses the pads of her fingers to her eyelids, releasing a shaky breath when they come up wet.

She’s crying.

“Regina,” Snow says worriedly, leaning over to touch her knee. “Regina, what’s wrong?”

Regina doesn’t answer. But she knows her facade must have crumbled, because Snow’s face falls and her eyes flash in realization.

“Oh my god,” Snow whispers, just scraping along the edge of what Regina knows is pity. “I - Regina… how long?”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Regina hisses before lurching out of her seat. “Don’t you _dare_.”

It takes every ounce of her willpower not to fling a fireball at Snow’s face. Looking at it is nearly unbearable.

“Tell her I said yes.”

Snow furrows her brow in bewilderment. “What?”

“I’ll be her maid of honor,” Regina declares softly. The words rise up in her throat like poison.

“Please lock the door on your way out.”

She says it with as much dignity as she can muster. Snow doesn’t respond. And the silence stretches on, even as Regina ambles back upstairs, the click-clack of her heels echoing in the stillness.

.

.

Ten minutes later, Regina hears the front door close.

She remembers the last time her house has felt this quiet. It was after the first curse broke and she believed she’d lost Henry forever.

History has a way of repeating itself, she guesses.

.

.

A week passes.

Regina keeps to herself as much as possible, avoiding all things related to weddings and Emma and _Hook and Emma_.

It works for a little while. Regina is able to put all her focus on more important matters, and not on the gaping hole withering away in her chest. She’s starting to think that maybe this isn’t so awful. She can move on like she’s done so many times in the past.

It _works_ for a little while. Until it doesn’t.

This is the part where Regina slowly wants to kill herself. She’d anticipated being _somewhat_ a part of the wedding planning as the maid of honor. What she _hadn’t_ anticipated was for her to be standing in a bridal shop, watching as Emma tries on dress after dress in a flurry of frustration.

Regina can sympathize. Except she’s almost certain she’s about three times more miserable than anyone in this room right now.

“That one’s nice,” Ashley observes as Emma comes out of the dressing room donning her _fifth_ dress.

It’s puffy and looks like something Snow White would wear. Regina hates it immediately.

“I don’t know,” Emma says uncertainly, in the same exact tone she used with all the others. “It’s not really… me. What do you think, Mom?”

Snow, who has been uncharacteristically quiet the entire time they’ve been here, blinks out of whatever stupor she was in and puts on the fakest smile Regina has _ever_ seen.

“Oh, it’s nice, sweetheart,” she says.

That’s it. That’s all she says.

“Just nice?” Emma asks, dubious. “Who are you and what’ve you done with Snow? You’re normally on my ass about these kinds of things.”

“ _Emma_ ,” Snow chides.

“It’s true!”

“She has a point,” Ashley adds, amused.

“I just think maybe… you should consider moving the wedding,” Snow explains after a beat. “Give it some more time to think about. Marriage is a serious commitment, Emma.”

Emma frowns. “Just a week ago you were all for it.”

“I know. But I think maybe you should see what other… options you have available,” Snow says, before casting a deliberate glance at _Regina_.

Regina nearly chokes.

She’s going to kill her.

“ _Options?_ ” Emma reiterates, wrinkling her nose.

“Right,” Snow says, nodding. “It’s simply a suggestion. Regina? What do you think?”

If looks could kill, Regina is certain she would have Snow enflamed in a pile of her own ashes.

“Of the dress,” Snow clarifies.

Regina clears her throat. “It’s hideous.”

At Emma’s hurt expression, Regina instantly regrets saying anything at all. This whole situation is far too precarious to be spitting out truths, however small they are.

“Right,” Emma sighs and picks up the next dress. “Time for plan F then.”

As soon as she leaves, Snow shoots her an exasperated look.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Regina hisses, mindful of Ashley’s presence on the other side of the room. “Was that your way of trying to be subtle? What the hell were you thinking?”

“I’m thinking of Emma,” Snow whispers back. “ _And_ you. You both deserve a chance at happiness.”

“Did you just forget that she’s marrying the filthy _pirate_?”

“Nothing’s ever set in stone, Regina.”

“If I didn’t know any better, Snow, I’d say this is you trying to set me up with your _daughter_.”

“Hey, Mom?” Emma calls out from the dressing room. “Wanna give me a hand here?”

Snow pins Regina with an expectant gaze. “There’s your cue.”

“You can’t be serious,” Regina deadpans as Snow gets up. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Ladies room.”

“ _Snow_ ,” Regina seethes. But it’s too late. She’s already gone, and Regina is left with the painfully outrageous notion that her former arch nemesis is playing _matchmaker_.

Ashley flicks her thumb in the direction of the dressing rooms. “Do you want me to…?”

“No,” Regina sighs. “I’ll do it.”

She hesitates just outside the wooden door, is able to make out the shape of Emma’s outline beneath the lighting before she knocks. It springs open, Emma’s face morphing into surprise.

“ _Regina_.”

“Your mother’s currently preoccupied,” Regina says as casually as she can. It’s hard to ignore the lump in her throat.

Or the fact that Emma’s dress is unzipped.

“Right,” Emma says and flashes her a small smile. “Come in. I just can’t get this zipper up.”

Regina steps inside and closes the door behind her, darting a quick glance at the strip of skin displayed beneath the zipper, covered only by a tan bra strap. The dress itself is certainly less extravagant than the others - white and sleek and it hugs Emma’s waistline perfectly. Regina has never noticed how _thin_ Emma’s become.

“The zipper’s down here,” Emma points out, gesturing to her lower back.

Regina breathes in unsteadily, but steps forward and eases the zipper up, her knuckles brushing over smooth, pale skin.

When she looks up, Emma is watching her carefully through the mirror.

“Thanks,” Emma says and smiles softly at her.

Regina gives her a terse nod and wipes her clammy hands over her pants. She spots the bouquet of pink flowers in the corner.

“Your mother’s doing, I presume?” Regina notes wryly, motioning to the flowers.

Emma huffs out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. She wants me to wear them in my hair. She’s got some weird obsession with pink.”

Regina rolls her eyes. She holds up a hand, palm up, as a single yellow rose emerges in a cloud of smoke.

“Yellow,” Emma says with curiosity, but she’s grinning at it, delighted.

Regina hums in acknowledgement. “You did say you liked it,” she says. She tucks a lock of Emma’s hair to the side, sliding the rose in place behind Emma’s ear.

She stares at it for a second, satisfied, and moves to stand over Emma’s shoulder.

“There.”

Their eyes lock in the mirror. Regina’s breath catches when Emma sends her a tender smile.

“So how do I look now?” Emma asks.

She still looks so fragile. Somehow her skin has grown even paler over the last week, the shadows beneath her sunken eyes dark and heavy; nothing like what a future bride _should_ look like. But seeing Emma now, with the fleeting spark in her eye and a smile that lights up her whole face, something inside Regina _clenches_ so tightly.

She wants to cry.

“Beautiful,” Regina says hoarsely. “I think this is the dress.”

Emma smiles at her again, brightly. “You think so?”

Regina’s own smile is brittle and hollow.

“I do.”

Later, when Regina gets home, she finds Henry in her study going over his storybook.

Nowadays it isn’t a rare occurrence, but the wrinkled twist of deep frustration on his face _is_. So Regina sucks up the exhaustion she feels and settles herself on the edge of her desk.

“Alright. Out with it,” she says as he peers up to regard her. “What’s going on?”

Henry sighs and closes his book. “That obvious, huh?”

“A bit,” Regina says with some amusement. She brushes a thumb across his cheek affectionately. “But normally when you’re nose deep in that book, you’re up to no good.”

“Not always,” he insists. “I was just doing some research.”

“Oh?”

Henry studies her for a moment. “Do you think Hook is Emma’s true love?”

Regina freezes. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“I don’t know,” she admits, honestly. She puts on a tense smile. “Emma says they are. But to be honest, sweetheart, sometimes you don’t need true love to be happy.”

“But Mom doesn’t _look_ happy,” Henry states. “Does she?”

Regina bites her lip. “Henry…”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Be that as it may, your mother loves him, Henry. She went to Hell for this… person.”

“Yeah, after he tried to kill us all!” Henry exclaims in the heat of the moment, slamming his book onto the desk.

Regina stares at him, unable to even reprimand him when she knows he’s right.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters and he glances up. “I just… do you want to see what I’ve really been working on?”

Before she can answer, he’s flipping through the pages of his storybook, stopping near the end where the pictures begin to change. They’re less like the book’s usual illustrations and more like drawings.

“This,” he says, and points to a drawing of what looks like her and Emma. “Our happy ending. You, me and Mom.” He flips to the next page. “Snow and David and Neal. Our _family_ . Killian _isn’t_ family.”

Regina’s hand falters over her mouth in stunned silence. Her eyes feel suspiciously misty, and she clutches a hand to her stomach, as if letting go will unleash the cry she’s keeping locked away.

“I’m not asking you to stop the wedding,” Henry says finally. “I just think you should talk to her. Emma will listen to you. Please.”

Regina’s hand is trembling slightly as she reaches out to sweep his hair to the side, letting her thumb rest against his cheek once more.

“I’ll see what I can do,” she says, and gives him a watery smile.

“Don’t cry, Mom.”

Regina scoffs. “Who’s crying? _I’m_ not crying,” she denies. At Henry’s raised brow, she pinches his cheek and says, “Why don’t you read me some of the pages you wrote?”

He smiles, then proceeds to flip to the previous page and begins to read out loud -

“The day of the wedding quickly approached and everything was set into place. It was like a fairytale. But in her heart, Emma knew she wasn’t happy, and she wasn’t sure why…”

.

.

_It wasn’t until she stood before an audience filled with all of her closest friends and family, ready to begin the next chapter in her life and say ‘I do,’ that Emma took Killian’s hand in her own and said, “I’m sorry. But I can’t do this.”_

_Because in her heart, Emma knew she loved another._

That’s how this fairytale would go.

But this is reality.

And in reality, Regina stopped believing in fairytale happy endings a long, long time ago.

.

.

Against Regina’s better judgement, she _does_ eventually give Henry’s request some consideration.

This is after Emma invites her over for breakfast one morning. Regina assumes it’s to go over the final touches on the bridesmaid dresses, which she has about as much desire to fawn over in pretense as she does pasting a smile on her face every time she so much as looks at the ring.

But Emma deserves to smile. Emma deserves happiness, even if that happiness is with a man who could never deserve _her_.

So Regina knocks on the door… not quite prepared for the person on the other side to _not_ be Emma.

Her spine stiffens. “Hook.”

“Regina,” he sighs and he looks so _rugged_. As if the last two weeks of this engagement is sucking the life out of him, too. Regina doesn’t understand it. “Emma’s upstairs. I don’t suppose you can talk her into actually eating something, rather than fawn over those bloody dresses.”

Regina sniffs. The stench of rum shouldn’t surprise her, but she recoils anyway. “Perhaps you should focus on not drinking yourself to death before the wedding.”

“I hardly think a little bit of rum can do me much harm,” he insists. As if to prove a point, he takes his flask and holds it out in offering. “But I certainly don’t mind sharing.”

When Regina simply sneers, he shrugs his shoulders, staggering away. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

Regina glares daggers into his back even as he rounds a corner and disappears.

And Regina hates him, loathes him with every fiber of her being.

He doesn’t deserve her.

Nonetheless, Regina takes his advice and fixes a quick meal in the kitchen. Funny how she was invited for breakfast, yet the kitchen looks like it hasn’t been touched in days. She has a plate of scrambled eggs, toast and orange juice in hand when she finds Emma upstairs, who is so engrossed in the dresses laid out on her bed, she doesn’t notice Regina at first.

“Regina, hey,” Emma says in greeting once she does. “Your dress came in. I know it’s pink, but Snow just seems to really like it and, you know. I figured it’d make her happy -”

“Emma.”

“ - Plus Killian thought they looked more feminine than the blue ones. Why don’t you try it on? Maybe you can -”

“ _Emma_ ,” Regina tries again, more firmly, because Emma is going off on a wild tangent and Regina can’t stand seeing her like this.

Emma pauses midway and stares. Regina holds out the plate and orange juice. “Eat.”

Emma observes the plate in bewilderment. “I’m not hungry.”

“Just eat it, Emma,” Regina urges gently. “Please.”

Something about her plead must soften Emma’s resistance. She bites her lip, accepting the plate without another word. Regina quietly takes a seat at the edge of the bed.

“This is good,” Emma says and munches on the eggs as though she hasn’t eaten in days. Regina is almost convinced she hasn’t. “What’s in it?”

“A sleeping curse.”

“Oh.”

Regina’s lip curls. “Parmesan.”

“Oh,” Emma says again, smiling.

And Regina has to drag in a sharp breath, because seeing Emma smile always makes everything inside her throb and it’s not going to make the conversation they’re about to have any easier.

“Thanks,” Emma says sincerely, setting aside the half-empty plate. “I needed that.”

So Regina just says it.

“We need to talk.”

She doesn’t mean to say it so _abruptly_ , maybe, but it’s out now and Emma is regarding her with narrowed eyes.

“ _Okay_ ,” Emma says, perturbed. “That doesn’t sound ominous at all. What’s up?”

Regina has no idea what to say after that. As unhappy as Emma appears to be on the outside, there’s no telling what Emma _actually_ feels. What if Regina’s wrong and she’d gone ahead misinterpreting things that weren’t hers to interpret in the first place?

What if Emma is genuinely _happy_?

“Are you happy?” Regina blurts out.

Emma gives her a strange look. “Of course I am,” she replies, automatically, and even to Regina’s ears it all sounds robotic. “I mean, I’m marrying the man I love. Why wouldn’t I be happy about that?”

“You love him,” Regina echoes carefully. Her throat feels tight. “And marrying him will make you happy?”

Emma’s smile dwindles, resting over her face like it doesn’t belong there.

“Why are you asking me this?” she asks. Her voice sounds small, and Regina realizes with some despair that there’s nothing happy about Emma at all. “This is it for me, isn’t it? With Gideon still out there, I could die any day and this might be my last chance to give… to give Killian what he deserves. The fairytale wedding, you know? Like my parents had.”

And then it all _clicks_. It dawns on Regina so suddenly, she has no way of stopping the words that spew out of her mouth next.

“This isn’t about them! You’re not responsible for everyone’s happy endings, Emma. You’re _not_ ,” Regina exclaims, frustrated. “This is about _you_ . As you. _Emma_ . Not the Savior. What do _you_ want?”

“Is that what you think this is about?” Emma murmurs.

“Emma -”

“I think you should go.”

The words are final. And they cut through like a shard of glass, much like the look of betrayal on Emma’s face.

Regina doesn’t need to be told twice.

.

.

Except she doesn’t have to wait too long to lament the total tragedy of that whole conversation either, because Emma knocks on her door later that evening.

Regina has a second glass of cider waiting for her in her study and not an ounce of patience to retain when Emma pushes right past her, slamming the front door shut with her back. She’s out of breath, her face colorless, hair disheveled, and Regina can’t stop the way her eyes roam back tauntingly to the ring on her finger.

Emma levels her with a steady glare.

“Why did you have to do that?” she asks. Regina has no idea what she’s talking about. “Why did you have to go off and talk about things you don’t understand? Why can’t you just be _happy_ for me, Regina?”

Regina bristles. “What?”

“I was fine with my dresses, alright? I mean, they’re pink and - and ugly as hell but they’re _mine_ . They were _my_ choice. _This_ is my choice. Just because you lost your happy ending doesn’t mean you get to question mine,” Emma rasps.

Something cold and sharp sinks into Regina’s stomach then, slithering up her throat.

Her tone is downright icy when she asks, “So then why are you here?”

Emma seems to hesitate at that, like she doesn’t exactly know why she _is_ here.

“Because I’m happy,” Emma answers thickly, ducking her head. “I am.”

“And I’m happy for you, Miss Swan. Is that what you want to hear?” Regina bites out.

“Don’t _call_ me that!”

Regina is taken aback by the fierceness in Emma’s response, by the angry flash in her eyes that snaps the life right back into her. It’s the first time in weeks, maybe even months that Regina sees a fragment of the real Emma Swan brimming beneath the surface, even if it’s hidden behind a layer of untamed anger.

Regina latches onto it immediately.

“Do you know what I think, _Em-ma_ ?” Regina questions and takes a step forward, mindful of the way Emma straightens up at her approach. “ _I_ think you’re trying so hard to convince me that you’re happy, when you can’t even convince yourself.”

Emma watches her, wordlessly, but Regina recognizes the fear in Emma’s eyes for what it is. The reluctance.

“You think it’s your job as the Savior to bring back everyone’s happy endings,” Regina goes on. “But it shouldn’t be at the cost of _your own_ . You shouldn’t have to marry Hook just because he has it in his head that you’re _his_ happy ending. You’re too good for him.”

Emma shakes her head. “He loves me.”

Regina nearly laughs. “That may be true, but he certainly doesn’t deserve you.”

“Yeah? Then who does?” Emma asks, stubborn as always.

“ _Henry_ ,” Regina retorts, frustrated now. “Your friends. Your _family_ . The people who love you, who would never do anything to put you in harm’s way. The people who wouldn’t put _our son_ in harm’s way and try to kill us not even two months ago.”

“Regina -”

“ _Look at you_ ,” Regina cuts in. “Look at what you’ve _become_ . It’s like I don’t even recognize you anymore. Your face, that… _spark_ you used to have - it’s all gone. And the floral wardrobe? Really?”

“I had a change of style,” Emma defends. “It’s softer.”

“You’re dressed like your mother,” Regina counters. “I know you, Emma. You’re _not her_. You don’t have to mimic your parents’ nauseating true love just to please them -”

“ _Stop_ ,” Emma grits out. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Well you’re going to _damn well have to_.”

Regina is shaking now, the remaining shreds of her willpower spiraling out of control. She can feel it pumping in her veins, hot and rabid.

She will not break down.

She will not break down.

“Why does it matter to you, anyway?” Emma snaps back. “Why can’t you just leave it be?”

She will not break down.

“Because you deserve _better_ , Emma! You deserve someone who will love you as _you_.”

“ _Like who_?”

And that’s it. The last sliver of her restraint gives way.

And Regina finally, _finally_ breaks.

“Like _me_ , you… _idiot_ ,” Regina chokes out. Her voice cracks, and she _hates_ it. Hates it as much as the emotions coursing through her. “I’ve loved you since the moment you strolled into my town, wearing that stupid red jacket of yours. Since the moment you decided _something_ inside me was worth saving all these years. And I’ll be damned if I have to watch you ruin your own happiness by marrying some hapless _pirate_!”

The silence is numbing. Regina would think she’d gone deaf if she isn’t keenly aware of her own harsh breathing, of the way her blood is pounding in her ears. Emma stares on quietly, a look of dumbfoundment and… _awe_ washing over her features.

“You love me,” Emma whispers. It isn’t a question.

And then she does something that Regina doesn’t expect at all. She closes the distance between them, Emma’s hands coming to rest over Regina’s face, cradling her cheeks. Regina tenses.

And then Emma leans over and kisses her.

Regina breathes out a strangled sob, one that is muffled by Emma’s mouth, but she reaches out, tangling her fingers into Emma’s hair and letting herself fall into the motion of Emma’s lips moving against her own. She tastes like chapstick and salt, as if Regina is tasting her own tears. But it also feels… _right_ . Like everything is finally put into place. Like Regina’s heart is throbbing and all she wants to do is pull Emma closer, because _this_ feels a lot like the happy ending she’s always dreamed of.

But when Emma pulls away, there’s no mistaking the dampness of Emma’s cheeks, or the look of utter devastation on her face that has Regina’s stomach dropping in less than a second.

“I’m sorry,” Emma blurts. Her eyes are anguished and red-stained. “I - I _can’t_ \- I can’t do this to -”

“To him,” Regina finishes, hollowly. “You choose him.”

Emma shakes her head, a sob straining in her throat. “Regina, please.”

“Then I’m happy for you,” Regina smiles widely. Tightly. The kind of smile you’d reserve for someone who you _want_ to be happy for. But in actuality you just got your heart broken again. Regina knows the feeling all too well.

“I’m glad you’re getting what you always wanted,” Regina says with a nod, and turns away. “Goodbye, Miss Swan.”

“ _Regina_.”

But Regina is already gone. Poof.

Gone in a cloud of purple smoke.

.

.

Henry finds her in her study an hour later.

She doesn’t notice him at first, so focused on the flames crackling in the fireplace that her mind doesn’t even register his presence until he’s stepping over the shards of glass on the floor, trying to pluck the glass of cider out of her hands.

“Mom, let go,” he pleads when her grip on it only tightens. “Please.”

She does, and he sets it down on the nearest table. With nothing to hold on to, she realizes her hands are shaking, the reality of everything that just happened kicking back in.

Henry goes to sit beside her, cradling her hands in his. “Mom, it’s okay,” he soothes. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

“Henry,” Regina whispers, unconsciously reaching out to cup his cheek.

“It’s okay,” he repeats and wraps his arms around her, nestling his head against her shoulder. “It’s okay,” he says again. “You can cry, Mom.”

Something inside Regina tears at his words as she cradles his head, still resting against her shoulder.

“It’s okay to cry. I’m right here.”

So Regina does. She lets out a choked sob that reverberates in the room. She muffles the rest against her palm.

Henry just holds on even tighter.

.

.

She doesn’t leave the house for three days.

The wedding is moved a week early, according to Snow, who shows up at her doorstep one morning and regards her with the most pitying, dignity-depriving look Regina has ever had the misfortune to receive. Regina wants to claw the look off with her fingernails and call it a day.

“Regina,” Snow breathes out, falsely cheerful. “How are you?”

“You have ten seconds to explain why you’re here or I’m slamming the door in your face.”

The cheerfulness is gone. Regina thinks she would rather have it back if it means not having to stare into all the _pity_.

“Emma sent me,” Snow gives in and holds out what looks to be her maid of honor dress. “In case… you decide to show up.”

Regina immediately changes her mind. She doesn’t _want_ an explanation.

But she accepts the dress from Snow’s hands. Regina has to fight the urge to set it on fire.

“Will that be all?” Regina drawls. Inwardly, she’s fighting a losing battle.

Snow stares at her for a long moment.

“She’s worried about you, you know,” Snow says sympathetically. “We all are. We haven’t seen you in days, Regina.”

“I seem to recall that being a good thing, once upon a time,” Regina says.

“Not anymore. You’re family now, Regina, whether you like it or not,” Snow says with certainty. “I just worry. About the both of you. I can see she’s not happy. And what kind of mother does that make me? Not being able to tell that her own daughter hasn’t been happy in _months_.”

Regina sighs. “Snow…”

“And you love her,” Snow utters suddenly, letting out a teary laugh. “Against all odds, my former enemy has fallen in love with my daughter. It’s almost like it’s gone full circle, hasn’t it?”

Regina’s grip stiffens around the doorknob. “Don’t,” she clenches out.

“She loves you, too,” Snow says. “I know she does. Just give her time, Regina -”

“Your optimism is draining, Snow, and frankly _not_ something I need right now,” Regina retorts. “Don’t you get it? _This_ is my story. This is how it’s always going to play out. And it’s time that you let go of that ridiculous hope and realize - I don’t get a fairytale! I don’t _get_ a happy ending. So _please_ , take your pity elsewhere. The pirate could surely use it now that he’s drinking himself into a stupor.”

Before Snow can respond, Regina has the door in front of her face faster than she can say _happy endings_.

.

.

Emma texts her exactly once.

It reads - _Please talk to me._

Regina stares at it on a daily basis, but never responds. She doesn’t have it in her to say anything.

As the days go by and Regina wards off anything remotely related to weddings, she begins to realize just how difficult it’s going to be to move on from this. It had been easier with Robin and Daniel when they were both dead and there was nothing she could do to bring them back.

But now that she has a taste of what it’s like to kiss Emma, what it’s like to be loved _back_ , even for just a few measly seconds, she knows now that the love she has for Emma Swan isn’t the same as the love she’s had for Daniel or Robin.

Daniel had been first, innocent and pure. Robin was her second chance.

But Emma feels like everything in between - from her firsts to her lasts. And the thought of having that opportunity within her grasp, only to lose it like she loses everything else in her life -

It kills her. The idea of seeing Emma in town from now on, not as Emma Swan but Emma _Jones_ … it repulses her like nothing else. It makes her stomach churn and her heart constrict painfully in her chest.

She’s sitting in Granny’s, nursing a cup of coffee, because any more alcohol will soon make her a raging alcoholic, when the subject of her hatred slides into the booth in front of her.

Speak of the devil and the devil shall come.

“What do you want?” Regina huffs.

Hook raises a hand in a yielding manner. “I am simply here for a friendly chat.”

“We were never friends,” Regina sneers, taking a sip from her mug. “While both of you have the common habit of irritating me, that seat is reserved for my sister.”

“I’ll just be a minute,” he says and leans forward, his eyes almost accusatory. “Swan’s been acting strange.”

“And you’re telling me this why?”

“Well it certainly can’t be a coincidence that the day you come to visit, she can barely look me in the eye.”

“I’m surprised she was ever able to look at you in the first place,” Regina says. “Believe me, it’s not a pleasant feeling.”

“Enough,” he grunts, the edge of his hook clinking against the table. “What did you say to her?”

Regina lowers her mug, the scowl growing more prominent on her face. “Why don’t you ask her?”

“Because she won’t _bloody_ talk to me, that’s why.”

“Oh? Trouble in paradise then?” Regina taunts.

She wishes she could take some sort of satisfaction in the way his face crumples in frustration, but in actuality, she’s just so… tired. She’s tired, and no amount of taunting or seeking comfort in his misery is ever going to fix that.

“You may have everyone else fooled, Regina,” Hook says. “But you and I aren’t much different. And I see right through you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Pirate. _We_ are nothing alike,” Regina says forcibly. “You don’t deserve her.”

“That may be the case, your Majesty,” Hook admits. “But I’m the one she’s agreed to marry. Not you.”

The look he sends her is knowing. Regina’s hands tighten around her mug, even as he stands and leaves, taking a swig from his flask on the his way out. Regina almost doesn’t notice Zelena resuming the seat across from her.

“What did the pirate want?” Zelena asks, wrinkling her nose. “Ugh. He smells like a walking brothel. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to marry _that_.”

The mug cracks underneath Regina’s grip, shattering completely in a wave of untamed magic. And coffee.

Zelena gasps. “ _Regina!”_

Regina wordlessly wipes away the splattered coffee, vanishing the shards of glass with a wave of her hand. She stands.

“Sorry, sis. Lunch will have to wait.”

“But I didn’t even get to order my bloody sandwich!”

Later, when Regina reluctantly tries on her dress for the first time - mind you, it’s hideous - she can’t help but wonder if this is her being self-destructive, or the good friend Emma’s always deserved to have.

That, or she’s plain out stupid.

Either way, Regina stares into the mirror before ripping the dress off in agitation. She picks up her phone, gazes at the message still sitting unanswered in her inbox.

_Please talk to me_.

A beat passes.

Two.

.

.

She hits delete.

.

.

It’s the day of the wedding.

Regina only remembers this because Snow had stopped by a week ago to drop off the invitation, a bit late but -

“Emma keeps changing the date,” Snow had offered, complete with a pointed look. “I tried to convince her to push it up further, but -”

“Tell her I’ll be there,” Regina had dismissed, before walking off to make them both some tea. It’s not like she can get rid of Snow White at this point.

The invitation is now attached to the fridge. Henry had taken it down as soon as he saw it, but Regina can’t be petty anymore. She’s in love with the woman she’s coparenting with and if there’s anything worse than watching her marry somebody else, it’s doing it with pettiness.

So Regina puts on the ugly dress, slides the invitation out from underneath the magnet -

And tosses it in the trash.

Because it’s the day of the wedding and she has a reason to that doesn’t have to mean _petty_.

The church is busy by the time she arrives. Snow promptly spots her from the doorway and strolls to her side, linking their arms together and dragging Regina off against her will.

“You made it,” Snow says offhandedly, the surprise evident in her tone.

They stop in a deserted hallway. A plain, black door stands shut in front of them.

“I said I would,” Regina says dryly.

“I know,” Snow sighs and glances at the door hesitantly. “Emma’s inside. I have to finish up the last minute preparations.”

“Go,” Regina urges. Her heart suddenly feels heavy. “I’ll be here.”

Snow nods, regards her for a long moment. Then she circles her arms around Regina and pulls her in for a hug.

Regina stands stiffly, hands sitting at her sides. She raises one to pat at Snow’s back awkwardly.

“If there’s anything I’ve learned, Regina, it’s that sometimes you have to fight for your happy ending,” Snow says over Regina’s shoulder. She pulls away, brushing a hand over Regina’s cheek in the most motherly-type gesture Regina has ever experienced. “Remember that.”

Regina doesn’t say anything to this. But her throat feels tight as Snow leaves and disappears around a corner. Regina stands in front of the door for as long as she can manage. Her hands are clammy and she might be suffering from cardiac arrest any minute now. She takes in a deep breath.

And then knocks.

“Come in!” she hears through the door.

Regina steps inside. She barely has time to shut the door behind her before Emma’s eyes lock onto hers through the mirror.

“Regina,” Emma breathes out, staggered, and it takes every bit of Regina’s strength to hold herself together.

It’s the first time she’s seeing Emma since the incident over two weeks ago. It feels like an eternity. Even now, as Regina’s gaze roams over the white dress, blonde curls draped elegantly over Emma’s shoulders, it feels like there’s still an eternity left to give.

Emma looks beautiful. And Regina thinks she might be falling all over again.

“Your mother sent me to check up on you,” Regina explains.

Emma nods, her eyes never drifting away from Regina’s. So Regina makes the first move. She steps forward, hearing Emma’s breath hitch a little as Regina draws in close and adjusts the flower crown resting over Emma’s head.

“Pink,” Regina mutters absently.

Emma shrugs her shoulders. But she smiles, sheepish. So Regina waves her hand, transforming the small pink petals into yellow ones, bright and warm. Regina treads back slightly.

She nods, satisfied. “That’s better.”

Emma is still staring at her, an intense, almost _anguished_ expression on her face that makes the area between Regina’s sternum _ache_. It’s so painful that Regina has to take another step back. Put some distance between them.

Regina’s smile is strained against her cheeks. “You ready?”

“You came,” Emma whispers instead, short of a ragged breath.

“I did.”

“Why?”

Regina peers down. Her lungs are nearly at the verge of collapsing when she says, “Because I’m here to support you. In whatever way I can.”

“But isn’t there…” Emma’s face scrunches. “Is there anything you want to… say, before…?”

Snow’s words echo in Regina’s head then. She hears the silent question in Emma’s voice - _Aren’t you going to stop me?_

But Regina is done chasing after happy endings that aren’t meant to be. She’s done fighting against the pain of losing love yet again. She’s done hoping.

“I’m happy for you, Emma,” Regina says.

And Emma’s face scrunches up again. Her eyes are glistening with unshed tears. It reminds Regina of the second curse, of heartfelt goodbyes at the town border and promises of happy endings.

“No you’re not,” Emma says hoarsely, the words catching on a quiet sob.

This time when Regina smiles, she almost means it.

“But I will be.”

.

.

The ceremony flies by in a blur. Regina sits through most of it on auto pilot.

It’s like everything is moving in slow motion. She vaguely recalls taking a seat in the back after the walk down the aisle, too emotionally drained to stand at the podium where the maid of honor would traditionally be. Instead Snow stands in her place. Archie does the reading.

Regina doesn’t look up even once.

She imagines Emma must be smiling by now, with her hair swept to the side beneath her yellow flower crown. Regina imagines it and wonders if it’s ever going to stop hurting.

So lost in her thoughts, she nearly misses Archie’s next words -

“And do you, Emma Swan, take Killian Jones to be your wedded husband to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love him, cherish him...”

Regina freezes. For a very brief second, she considers ending this miserable ritual Evil Queen style. She’s always hated weddings anyway.

But she stands up as inconspicuously as she can, which isn’t very inconspicuous at all when several heads turn over the rustle of her movement. Regina stops, primarily because Archie has stopped talking. There’s only silence among all the whispering.

But then she looks up for the first time since the ceremony began, and makes the mistake of meeting Emma’s gaze from across the aisle. Their eyes lock.

Emma isn’t smiling like Regina thought she’d be.

The sight of it makes Regina’s head spin. Somehow that makes the pain even worse, and all of a sudden Regina regrets ever coming. She can’t stay here a moment longer.

So Regina tears her gaze away, turns on her heels, and sneaks away through the church double doors.

At least this way she doesn’t get to hear Emma say _I do_.

.

.

Snow texts her not even ten minutes later.

_Where are you? Henry is with David and I. Call me ASAP._

And then another.

_Henry says CODE 50_

Regina has no idea what that means.

Regina ignores them, much like she ignores the rest of the world. As long as Henry is safe and unharmed, there really isn’t any reason to clue Snow in on her whereabouts. Especially now as Regina stands in front of her doorway, dressed in her hideous pink maid of honor dress, and she has nothing left to give. Not her dignity, or her self-preservation. Or any sort of care that would suggest she has any interest in hearing what _anyone_ has to say.

Regina wishes now that she had bothered to check the other seven messages that ding up on her phone. She might have reconsidered Henry’s last text -

_RUNAWAY BRIDE YOU GO MOM_

And maybe then she wouldn’t be so surprised to find Emma in her living room.

She’s sitting on the couch, sprawled against it in a sluggish manner, a glass of red wine in hand. Regina has to stop for a moment, because Emma is still in her wedding dress and flower crown, and the combination of it all is about as ridiculous as Emma Swan being here in the first place.

“Hey,” Emma murmurs and raises her glass, slightly abashed. “You ran out of cider. So I opened up some of your red wine. Hope that’s okay.”

“Emma,” Regina says softly. She sucks in a shaky breath. “I - I thought - shouldn’t you be at the reception?”

“Can’t have a wedding reception when you don’t say ‘I do’,” Emma replies timidly. She holds up her hand.

The ring is gone.

Regina feels like she’s just tumbled into a pool of water. The air leaves her lungs, forcing her to prop a hand against her mouth and retain the sob threatening to spill out.

“You didn’t…”

“I didn’t,” Emma confirms, shaking her head. “I couldn’t. You were right, Regina.”

Regina is still too stunned to respond to that, so she doesn’t respond to it at all. She just observes Emma, wordlessly, trying and failing to keep the tears at bay.

“You were right,” Emma says again and sighs, dragging herself off the couch. “I was so focused on helping everyone get a happy ending, including Killian, that I lost sight of what’s supposed to be _mine_. I thought it was the price to pay for being the Savior. I didn’t think - I never thought -”

“That you could be happy, too,” Regina whispers.

“I tried to be,” Emma mutters, furrowing her brow. “But it didn’t feel right. None of this is me, you know? The fairytale wedding, this stupid dress…”

At that, Emma frowns, pensive. As if considering her options. Then she lifts up her glass -

And pours the wine all over her pearly white dress.

“ _Emma_.”

“Sorry,” Emma says quickly, stepping aside as the wine pools at her feet. “I’ll clean that up.”

But Regina simply huffs out a watery laugh, smiling big and wide when Emma grins back at her. She looks more alive beneath that smile than she has in _months_ and Regina wants to believe - wants to _hope_ -

“So then why are you here?”

“Because I didn’t think I had a choice before,” Emma says and sets the glass down. “But now I realize I do and… I choose you, Regina.”

“Emma…” Regina doesn’t even care that she’s openly crying now. Her chest is shaking with silent sobs and she still _can’t dare to hope_ \- “Please don’t just be saying that because you think -”

“I’m not. I’m so sorry it took me this long to realize. But I’m here now and I - I choose you. I -”

Emma’s face crumples, falling apart with the weight of her emotions and she’s heaving in a jagged breath -

“I love you,” Emma chokes out. “I have for _so long_ \- _Fuck,_ I can’t even remember what it’s like _not_ to be in love with you. I never thought you’d feel the same way. But I - I do - I love you. And I’m so sorry, Regina. I’m -”

Regina doesn’t let her finish. She has her mouth pressed against Emma’s before she can stutter another word.

Emma lets out a strangled whimper and instantly parts her lips. She pulls Regina in close, shifting their bodies together. And Regina kisses her, again and again until Emma’s hands are gripping her hips and Regina’s fingers are sliding into Emma’s hair, down across her jawline.

It’s the sort of second kiss that leaves Regina’s knees trembling. Has her blood pumping faster and her skin buzzing.

This time when Emma pulls away, it’s to catch her breath, and her eyes are so bright, much like the yellow petals in her hair.

“I guess I should be glad I don’t have to call you Mrs. Jones now,” Regina murmurs and lets her hands drift to Emma’s cheeks, brushing away a stray tear.

Her heart is soaring.

Emma smiles. “As if I’d take anyone’s last name,” she says, but she’s leaning over, peppering kisses over Regina’s throat. “Though Swan-Mills has a nice ring to it.”

Regina laughs and brings Emma in for another kiss. She’s never felt this weightless before. Like she’s grasping at a happy ending that is finally within reach.

“We should get you cleaned up,” Regina says eventually. Not that she wants to separate herself from Emma’s roaming hands. But her fingers come up sticky around Emma’s waist and there are still splotches of wine all over her dress.

“Or,” Emma says, tilting her head to nuzzle Regina’s nose lightly. “You can get me out of this dumb dress.”

Regina stares, bites back a smile. “I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah?”

“Hm,” Regina hums in the affirmative, already reaching for the zipper.

.

.

She does get Emma out of the dumb dress. Among other things.


End file.
